Hell Episodes
by TheSixthGatekeeper
Summary: A sad one shot from Scott's point of view. The others bombard him with questions he can't answer. "Are you OK?" "Where are you hurt?" Who are they? He doesn't know. He's been through hell and back, and that's all he can remember...


**A/N: Hello! My second Fanfiction!**

**This one is a sad one. Get your tissues. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Power of Five if it isn't obvious already.**

He could see them. A bit, although not very clearly. Five people looking at him. Their mouths were moving, talking to him, but their words were fuzzy and indistinct so he couldn't hear what they were saying. He curled himself up to protect himself in case they had come to hurt him more.

"Are you hurt?"

"Where is he injured?"

"I can't see blood…"

"He _is _wounded, look. It's all under the suit."

"Get bandages Matt. The cuts are deep."

"Can you hear me?"

"The cruel person who did this…"

"Can you tell us where the pain is coming from?"

They lifted up his shirt and explored the slashes made in his skin. Every touch sent pain shooting through his whole body. He couldn't stop the cries that escaped.

"Richard, don't touch him. It's hurting him."

"Can you hear us?"

"Hello?"

"Are you ok?"

"I'm Professor Chambers. This is Matt, Pedro and Richard. We're on your side…"

"He won't respond."

"He doesn't even recognise his brother."

"Look! We're here to help you!"

"What happened to him?"

"They tortured him…"

And suddenly it all came flooding back, like a river into his broken mind.

The sharp impact of a dart hitting his cheek and collapsing as the world spiralled.

His limp body being dragged across the road and thrown roughly into a van. The bald man in the back with him. The other one driving. The sound of heavy doors slamming shut, sealing him in. Trapped.

Waking up in a brightly lit cell. The younger boy, looking at him. What was his name? Daniel. He was there. Asking him if he was alright through the metal dividers. He struggled to answer. He couldn't get up. His head spun and spun and his body was bruised and battered from being thrown everywhere like a worthless object. Then they came and took him out again.

Then the real horror began. The white room. Strapped. Hooked up to the tubes. Drugged. Electrocuted. Wounded. Cut. Beaten. A living nightmare that would haunt him forever.

The scrawny woman with the long neck. The bald man who only laughed as he cried for it to end. And the awful agony that never stopped, screaming, begging to die, day in, day out.

That was the first room. Then he was back in the cell.

Daniel asked questions. He was too confused. Too pain wracked. Too scared. After only a little while they brought him back in the torture room. And it would all begin again.

The offer. It wasn't his choice though. They threatened him. Said they would hit him. So he agreed. And they put him in a white suit and cut off all his hair. They made sure none of the wounds were visible to minimise suspicion. He had a terrible fever, but they had other things to think about than his comfort. He couldn't think while the world swirled and his head swam.

And finally the journey. The whole way there he was too hot, shivery. Briefed on the strict rules. Don't move. Don't speak. Don't try to escape. Don't let anyone talk to you. If anyone asks, Susan will talk for you. He was so scared. The pressure, the threats.

Seeing the man he was going to kill. Giving the order. Watching it all fall into place as the gun was raised and fired. In the wrong direction.

And the woman fell dead. It was chaos now. The familiar boy ran up to him and spoke. So familiar. The woman with the red hair taking him and the boy. They helped him walk over to a car. The blue car. The boy who was in the cell next to him was there, but he had forgotten his name by now. They kept talking and talking.

And he ended up here. With the new people.

A series of hell episodes. That's all it was. It was all over. It didn't feel like it though. He was still hurt. He was still ill. And somehow, he felt like he trusted these people. He wanted to tell them what was wrong, but when he tried to speak, no sound came out. The five people. Two adults and three boys. He didn't recognise them, except the familiar boy. Talking to him. He managed one word. "Stop," he gasped.

"He spoke!"

"Are you ok?"

"Was he like this when you found him?"

"I think he might be ill."

"Oh yes, his forehead is feverishly hot."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Maybe we should carry him upstairs."

"There's his blood on my sofa…"

"You can get a new sofa, Professor. You can't get a new Gatekeeper."

"Can he stand?"

"He's been held captive by _the Old Ones._ Leave him alone!"

"He's traumatised."

"How can anyone hurt him like this?"

"He's scared. Look, he's shaking."

"It's shock."

"Give him space."

He didn't want them all talking rapidly in his face or touching his cuts, but he'd lost all the energy to speak and went limp. He almost fell forward off the sofa with the pure exhaustion, but they caught him before he hit the floor.

Why couldn't they leave him alone?

He was gently pushed back onto the sofa.

"Just lay there like that, ok? You're ok. You can go to sleep if you like."

There was a blanket draped over him now. It was difficult to keep his eyelids open.

"I think its sleep deprivation…"

Then a familiar voice. The familiar boy. He was sad, because he couldn't remember who it was.

"Do you remember me?"

The tears fell.

No.

**Poor Scott.**

**Please review!**

**TheSixthGatekeeper**

**Xxxxxx**


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